


Beautiful

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Mc76 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputee Soldier 76, Angst, Body Image, Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Prosthesis, Reunions, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Leaving Blackwatch, the fall of Overwatch and the years between had changed many things between them. However it hadn't changed the face that Jack Morrison is the most beautiful thing McCree has ever seen, if only he could get the other man to believe it.





	Beautiful

 

       McCree heaved a sigh of relief as he felt the wheels hitting the tarmac, the jolt jerking him out of the daydreams of being home that had tided him over during the journey, to the reality of being home as the plane began to taxi along the runway. It was enough to have his lips quirking up in a grin as he listened to the chatter around him, a fresh lightness in the air as everyone realised that they had made it back safely. Nearby Hana and Lucio were huddled together, busy discussing the stream they were planning on doing that night after the longer than normal mission had interrupted their previous plans. Lena was clearly listening in to their conversation, rather than paying attention to Angela who was scolding her even as she continued to work on the nasty wound down the younger woman’s right side, and beyond them Genji sat meditating. Although McCree had caught him checking the clock more than once during the flight, and he knew that as calm as he looked right now, he was just as keen to be home as the rest of them.

     The plane was turning into the hangar now and he ignored Angela’s dark glare as he bolted from his chair, narrowly avoiding her as he moved across to the window and peered out, drinking in the welcoming sight of the Gibraltar base.

    There had been a time when he’d thought that he would never see this place again and at one point he had almost been glad about it. That had been the time when he had considered not answering the recall, frightened of the memories that he might dig up if he came back. If he came home. However, in the end he had come back, because despite everything that happened it was still his home. And it had been the best decision of his life. It was nice to have a home again, rather than making do with whatever hole he could manage to hide himself away in, nice to have friends…family…around him again, rather than strangers who more often that not were after his head and the nice bounty attached to it.

And then there was Jack.

     His expression softened as it always did these days when his thoughts turned towards his partner. It had been one hell of a shock the day that the elusive Soldier 76 had finally reached out to them. In more ways than one. They’d more or less known that the man was on their side as there had been numerous occasions when he had stepped in and saved their hides, and Winston had admitted that he had acted as an informant more than once, but until that point he had always remained separate from them. So, the fact that he had reached out had been shock number one, and then had come that first meeting…

_The entire base had been abuzz with the news that they were getting another agent and considering how few of them there were at the moment it was big news. They needed the numbers. However, at the same time there was a level of caution because they all knew of the reputation that Soldier 76 had been earning for himself, and whilst his methods had been effective in making him a thorn in the side of organisations like Talon, it wasn’t necessarily a good thing for Overwatch to be seen adopting or even approving of those methods. Especially when Winston was fighting so desperately to get Overwatch formally recognised again and out from under the restrictions of the Petras Act._

_“Are you sure about this?” McCree asked as he glanced across at Winston who kept glancing anxiously at the clock, the Scientist had never managed to develop a good poker face and it was clear that he was nervous about what was to come. They were all gathered in the large meeting room waiting on Angela and Lena who had gone to meet Soldier 76 and lead him in, something that McCree had argued against, earning himself a dark look from Angela who had reminded him sotto voice that she had laid him out more than once. However, she wasn’t there to glare at him right now and so he was using the time he had to urge caution, trying not to think about how much he must have changed to have become the voice of reason. “He’s a vigilante for crying out loud, you’ve seen the damage he’s done.” Sure, they had all done similar things when necessary, but the Soldier had seemed to be particularly vindictive in his efforts and he had made no attempt to hide his tracks. If the authorities connected the dots, and found him here…_

_“I am aware,” Winston pushed his glasses up, a nervous tick as his gaze flickered to the security feed and then back to McCree. “But we need the numbers, and so far, he hasn’t given us any reason to think that he will act against us.”_

_“But…”_

_“If I was going to betray you I could have done it a long time ago.” McCree tensed at both the words and the vaguely familiar gravelly tone, turning to find that their ‘guest’ had arrived and was now stood in the doorway studying them, mask and visor still firmly in place. That alone had McCree’s hackles up, suspicion flaring and his hand was down on his gun before anyone else could move._

_“What do you mean by that?”_

_“I mean that I have all the override codes for this base and other bases,” Soldier 76 replied evenly, clearly noticing that McCree’s hand was on his weapon but making no effort to reach for his own, standing there calmly, although it was impossible to tell if his expression matched his posture. “Codes that would have me through Athena’s firewalls with you none the wiser.” That had the tension in the room ratcheting up several notches, and now there was more than McCree reaching for their weapons, and Soldier 76 barked a rough laugh at the sight, the sound tugging at something in the back of McCree’s mind although he shoved it aside in favour of taking a threatening step forward. This was his home; his family and he would be damned if he lost it again. The Soldier turned his head, watching him move before shrugging, dismissing the threat before adding. “Like I said, if I was going to do it I already would have.”_

_“And why should we believe a man that won’t take off his mask?”_

_The question seemed to bring the other man up short and McCree waited for him to refuse, to lash out, to do something. Instead he was caught by surprise when the Soldier’s shoulders slumped in defeat, the chuckle that followed sounding more self-deprecating than anything else. “I forgot just how stubborn you were.” His words had McCree frozen in place, because everyone who knew him enough to say something like that were either in this room, dead or fighting for Talon, and his eyes narrowed as the other man reached up. The leather of his coat rippled as he fumbled awkwardly with the catches on his mask and McCree notes the odd metallic noises that accompany each movement, noting for the first time how the fabric of his clothes seems to sit wrong in places and…_

_“Jack…” It’s little more than a breath of sound and he’s sure that he’s not the only one to say it, but he can’t look to check, because his gaze is riveted on the man in front of him. The man who was supposed to be dead. The changes are devastating, and McCree found himself transfixed by the sight of the metal implants on Jack’s forehead that had been hidden by the visor, and the strange amber eyes with golden lines that seem to darken as Jack focuses on them, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Wary. Tense. His hair is white now and in a strange state of growth, as though he’d lost it all and let it grow bac on a whim, and the skin that had once borne a light tan and a dusting of freckles was pale to the point of translucency in places, and McCree couldn’t hide his doubt as he asked softly. “Jack…is that really you?”_

_“Parts of me anyway…”_

“Jesse,” Angela’s voice drew him out of his memories and he blinked, startled to realise that they’re the only two left on the plane, the other seats empty as the others have apparently wasted no time in getting off the plane. There’s a warm smile on her lips as she tilts her head towards the door, and a knowing look in her eyes that has him wanting to blush even though he’s too old for such things. “He’s waiting for you.” McCree needs no further urging, practically bolting for the door and halting for a moment at the top of the steps, eyes scanning the hangar for a second before he finds him, lips curling into a warm grin even as he hurried down the steps. _Jack…_

     It had taken them long months of skirting around one another after that meeting, before they had even started to broach the topic of what had been between them before he had left Blackwatch and disappeared and it hadn’t been easy. At the start tentative conversations, neither of them knowing what to say, had either ended in awkward silences or sharp words. It had hurt to realise that the easy relationship they’d shared had disappeared over the years, it had hurt to realise that he had no idea how to connect with the man that Jack Morrison had become, and for a time he had thought that wasn’t going to change. That they were going to be colleagues and nothing else, that maybe it would be easier to let it stay that way. But like Jack had said that first day, he was stubborn, and so he had fought to move forward, to regain what they had, ignoring the silences and the sharp words, not pushing but not leaving either and slowly Jack had opened up to him again.

     That had brought its own set of difficulties. They had both missed out on a lot, both before and after the fall of Zurich, but McCree had realised that he had missed more than he had ever thought possible. It had taken even longer for Jack to fully entrust him with the full extent of what he had lost, the damage he had been keeping carefully hidden away beneath his clothes, and it had taken him longer still to dare to show that damage to the others, and even now McCree felt his breath catching as he saw Jack moving towards him. Jack had finally taken to wearing more comfortable clothing, no longer trying to hide the damage like he had in the beginning, although there were still days when he would cover himself completely and flinch if anyone looked at him too long or tried to say anything to reassure him. However, today was clearly a good day because Jack was smiling, moving rapidly towards him, prosthetic feet clanking solidly against the ground.

“Jack,” McCree meets him midway, moving to hug him as soon as he’s within reach because goddam it that mission had seemed to last forever without Jack there.

“You’re not hurt?” Jack demands, taking a step back to avoid the hug in favour of looking him over from head to toe and McCree fights the urge to roll his eyes at the excessive concern. It’s one of the few habits that reassure him that Jack hasn’t changed completely, he had always been a worrywart, often sneaking into the infirmary whenever Jesse had returned injured from a mission, no matter how minor the injury itself was.

“Just a few cuts and bruises,” he reassured him instead, seeing the doubt in the amber eyes and stepping forward with an easy smile, reaching out to grasp Jack’s hands and squeezing softly, before tugging him into a hug. “I’m fine, Jack.” It takes a couple of minutes, but finally Jack melts into the hug, tentatively returning it, wary as always about overdoing it with his strength. He only holds on for a minute or so before pulling away again, although he lets the fingers of his own hand linger against McCree’s wrist for a moment, savouring the simple contact. It had become a habit of sorts that when they were close enough and not fighting for their lives he would always be touching McCree, only with his remaining flesh and blood hand, and more often that not there was no desire for anything more. He just wanted the contact, and McCree had a feeling that it was a way of grounding himself in the present more than anything else.

“Winston wants to see you all once you’ve dropped off your stuff.” McCree grimaced at the message, wishing that for once Winston could just wait to do the debriefing, after all if they had anything important to report they’d have done it on the flight back. That had been the whole point of installing and upgrading Athena on all the vehicles at their disposal, but he didn’t bother to question it anymore, instead grumbling under his breath and glancing longingly at Jack and the fingers against his wrist, earning a soft chuckle from Jack. “You look about as happy as you did when Angela told you to cut back on the cigars, if not worse.”

“The Doc knows that not going to happen,” McCree grinned wryly, knowing that was one lecture that he was never going to escape before he sighed. “But Winston will come and drag me into the debriefing if I don’t go…”

“Go,” Jack closes the distance between them, smiling and McCree is caught by surprise when he gives him a fleeting kiss. “I’ll cook and then we can have the evening to ourselves.” There’s a promise of something more in his voice and in the way his fingers tighten against McCree’s wrist, and he can’t help but look at Jack in question. That aspect of their relationship had been on a slow burner for a while and he’s startled by the implication, struggling to hide his hope and seem reassuring at the same time, but his efforts are clearly appreciated as Jack laughs, stealing another quick kiss, this one slightly more hesitant than before pushing him away with a quiet. “Later.”

****

    It’s only that promise of ‘later’ that gets McCree through the meeting, although it also leaves him scatter-brained because he wants to know what Jack is planning and he’s lucky that the others are so patient with him, because more than once it takes Winston banging on the desk to get him to pay enough attention to be able to reply. It’s a relief when they’re finally cleared to leave, with the added bonus of Winston promising that unless there’s a dire emergency in the next few days they’ve got some time off. McCree practically bolts from the room on the tail of that announcement, grinning at the thought of even a couple of days to just spend with Jack, as it seemed as though one or the other was always away on a mission at the moment. It’s the way things have to be for now, he knows that, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling like an excited kid as he hurries towards their shared quarters.

    That had been one of the first steps they’d taken after they’d got to the point of declaring that they were back together, asking Winston to let them clear out one of the larger rooms so they could live together, and McCree didn’t think the Scientist had ever agreed to one of their requests so quickly before. His sentiments had been shared, and they had had found themselves inundated with offers to help even though everyone was sick of cleaning out the base. The rooms themselves weren’t that big, especially compared to their old one, but considering where the two of them have been forced to stay, it felt like a palace. That wasn’t always a good thing though, and more than once he’s found Jack holing up in a corner of the room in an old sleeping bag because it’s just too different, and McCree had found himself spending the odd night just pacing the length of the room, unable to get over the feeling of being too exposed. But despite the shortfalls, it’s still home, and his grin widens as he spies the door and he speeds up, eager to see Jack again, fumbling with the keypad in his excitement.

     It smells heavenly inside and he pauses for a moment to appreciate it, once again reminded of just how good his partner can be at cooking when he puts his mind to it. Generally, they eat with the others, saving their own kitchenette for special occasions or those days where company is just much for them to bear, although those days have been occurring less and less of late, and given Jack’s mood earlier, McCree is guessing that this must be a special occasion. It’s that thought which gets him moving again, abandoning his hat on the hook and shedding his boots and serape on the battered couch they’d managed to cram into the living room a few weeks before, before heading towards the kitchen where he can hear Jack singing along with the radio. Jack had always been a terrible singer, but its been made worse by the damage that Zurich had caused and the wear and tear that comes with age, and yet right now it’s the most beautiful thing that McCree has heard in days. It’s made better by the fact that when he steps into the kitchen, it is to find Jack dancing awkwardly as he checks the book propped open against the kettle before turning his attention back to the pans on the hob.

“Someone’s having fun,” McCree drawls, and Jack starts violently, having clearly been lost in his own little world and McCree winces as he jerks worryingly close to the pans, before catching himself and turning wide eyes towards McCree. Jack relaxes immediately when he realises who it is, but it doesn’t stop McCree moving forward with an apologetic expression. “Sorry…” Jack waves off the apology, but he can’t hide the fact that he’s trembling slightly when McCree reaches him pressing up against his back and leaning in to kiss the back of his neck in apology. “Sweetheart.”

“It’s fine, I was just distracted.”

“So, I heard,” McCree teases lightly, knowing from the tone of the words that Jack just wants to drop the topic and he’s more than happy to oblige him, and the teasing is worth it for the hoarse chuckle that greets his words, and he hums, pressing closer. “And I’ve got some news to cheer you up.”

“Oh?”

“The Boss says we’ve got a couple of days off,” he drawls, unable to keep the grin off his face or his hands away from Jack as they slide down to rest against his hips, waiting for him to respond and frowning when there is no surprised reaction to his announcement. When he tilts his head to try and see what Jack’s expression is showing, he just manages to catch the satisfied smile on Jack’s face and his eyes narrow. “You already knew?”

“I asked him,” Jack admits slowly, checking the pans again before turning around to face McCree and moving so their chest to chest, McCree shifting his hands to accommodate him before arching an eyebrow at him, silently demanding an explanation. Because Jack is still a workaholic even though he no longer has to bear the weight of being the Strike Commander. “I…there’s something I want to try, and…” The easiness is gone from Jack’s voice, his brow furrowing, creased with distress as he tries to get the words and McCree understands at once and shushes him, tugging Jack closer into a hug and kissing his forehead as he holds him close.

    The physical aspect of their relationship had been the slowest to rekindle, advancing in fits and starts, three steps back for every step forward at the start and whilst they were getting there, they had learned to plan ahead. To leave time to recover afterwards in case things went wrong, as they often did, memories or insecurities rising and overwhelming them.

“Then we have plenty of time.” He doesn’t push to know what Jack’s got planned, catching the way he’s dancing around the topic and letting him do it for the time being, kissing him again and reluctantly letting him go when Jack pulls to be free so that he can rescue the food before it burns. With Jack distracted he lets himself frown for a moment, more worried than he’s willing to let onto his partner about what Jack might have planned, because it wouldn’t be the first time Jack had tried to rush things and he just hopes that he’s not trying to go too fast.

**

    His worries melt away over dinner. The food is delicious, and he can’t help but feel smug that he’s here eating this whilst the others are suffering through whatever Junkrat has managed to concoct tonight, which will either be delicious or a disaster depending on what other mischief he’s planning. Either way he’s perfectly content to be sat here with Jack, playfully stealing bites of each other’s food as McCree fills Jack in on the mission before they move on to lighter topics.  Apparently Hanzo’s dragons had escaped again whilst he was gone, only this time they had made it into the ventilation and Jack had been roped into trying to herd them out again, McCree chortling at the disgruntled expression that accompanied that story.

    Once they had eaten Jack insisted on doing the dishes, rightly pointing out that if McCree had his way they would never get done and they would be overrun with dirty dishes. Not that he could really complain as Jack handed him each dish with a small kiss before ordering him to dry it, and he went about it with good cheer, deliberately spinning the plates just to irritate Jack and ending up with a mouthful of bubbles for his trouble.

    Then the dishes were done, and he had nothing else to distract himself with and then Jack was there, taking his hand and leading him through to the bedroom and there was nothing he could do but follow, marvelling at the ease with which Jack had taken his hand. An intimate action that only a few months ago Jack had been too nervous to initiate. That was why he remained silent, letting Jack take the lead and obediently moving as directed, although he was surprised when Jack kissed him, more forcefully than before although he pulled away before it could become too heated, stepping away and settling on the edge of the bed, leaving McCree hovering awkwardly.

“Jack?” He asked with a frown, seeing the nervousness that had replaced Jack’s previous calm and he took a step forward. “What are you doing?” _What have you got planned…?_ Jack shook his head, glancing down for a minute and McCree realised that he was taking deliberate, steadying breaths and immediately fell silent not wanting to push when he was clearly on edge, although he couldn’t stop himself shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

    After a moment though Jack seemed to steady himself, lifting his head and meeting McCree’s gaze, offering what was clearly intended to be a reassuring smile but looked more nervous than anything and then he was moving, reaching down to pull at his trousers. It was only when he had revealed the ends of the prosthetics and began working on the catches, fumbling with them as he was still watching McCree carefully, that it dawned on McCree just what he was doing, and his mouth went dry. Jack almost never took his prosthetics off when they were physical, or ever if he could get away with it, although both McCree and Angela had become vigilant about making sure that he did remove them and take of them better than he had done when he was alone and on the run.

“Are you sure?” He asks softly, moving so that he can kneel in front of Jack, allowing the other man to focus more on what he’s doing than looking up at him, realising that Jack is working on both legs now and he reaches out to stop him, squeezing his fingers lightly, wanting to make sure that Jack is focused on him. “Really sure, because this is a big step.” _Too big,_ he adds to himself. He knows that Jack feels vulnerable without them, and it’s always been too much before, especially combined with the nervousness that hits him whenever they get physical, caught up in the changes that Zurich and the years on the run have wrought on his body no matter how often McCree reassures him and he’s worried that this a step too far, too soon.

“I’m sure,” Jack whispered, lips quirking up in a small smile and he sounds calms. McCree studies him for a moment, before nodding and pulling back, still watching, ready to step in at a moment’s notice and stop it if it’s too much.

    It doesn’t take him long to realise that Jack isn’t nearly as composed as he was pretending to be, catching the way his hands are trembling, making the task of undoing the clasps practically impossible. He wants to stop him, to reassure him that they can wait, that he will wait as long as it takes. However, there is a determination and desperation in Jack’s expression that tells him that Jack isn’t ready to give up this attempt yet. That he really wants this and so he leans forward again, gently brushing his fingers against Jack’s hand again to get his attention and waiting for him to look at him.

“Jack, can I help?” He tilts his head towards the claps, slowly letting his fingers drift towards them, ready to pull back at a moment’s notice. He still remembers how Jack had panicked the first time he’d tried to help him, instinctively lashing out to protect himself and then spending days apologising to him for the bruise he had left across McCree’s cheek. McCree isn’t about to repeat the experience, not least because he can’t bear the thought of seeing such fear directed at him again. And so, he waits, watching Jack closely and finally there’s a tiny nod.

“Please…”

    The level of trust in that simple word floors him and there’s a lump in his throat as he sets to work, keeping his movements slow and predictable, ready to let Jack stop him at every point. The other man is silent though, watching quietly with only the way he is gripping the bed speaking of his nerves and it isn’t long before McCree has the first limb unfastened, carefully setting it to the side, making sure it is within reach of the bed. He knows how it feels to have part of you missing, how much you need to have it there within reach and he still has moments where he wakes in a panic about his arm, even though he shoots with the other and he always makes sure it’s close to the bed. He knows that he’s done the right thing when Jack relaxes a little, and he smiles up at him, soft and reassuring before turning his attention to Jack’s stump.

“You’ve been overdoing things again,” he scolds lightly as he studies the reddened skin and swollen skin, gently massaging them with his thumb and feeling Jack flinch and then shudder as the touch slowly shifted from painful to soothing, and McCree couldn’t help but scowl as he glanced up at Jack. He had thought they’d got past this, that Jack had learnt to take better care of himself over the last few months, but apparently not. Although it’s hard to cling onto his annoyance when Jack is melting into his touch, relief replacing the nervousness in the scarred features and he felt the last bit of his irritation melt away when Jack leans down to press their lips together in a clumsy kiss, amber-tinged eyes meeting his when he pulled back.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured as he continued the massage, and it was true, the time apart after he had fled Overwatch and the time that he had spent thinking that Jack was dead had seemed endless, and yet now he found it hard to be away from him for more than a few days at a time. They’d already wasted too much time and he sighed before narrowing his eyes at Jack, it might be true, but there was no way he was going to let Jack get away with using it as an excuse for forgetting to take care of himself. “But, you need to take better care of yourself.” Jack grumbled under his breath, mulish in the face of being caught and Jesse paused, staring at him with pleading eyes. “For me?” He knew that he had him them, catching the way Jack’s fingers flexed against the covers and the way he worried at his bottom lip before his shoulders sagged in defeat.

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” McCree murmurs, wishing that he could ask for more, just because he hate the thought of Jack causing himself more pain. But it’s an old argument now and not one he wants to rehash tonight of all nights and so he smiles, pressing a line of gentle kiss across the scars before he turns his attention to the other leg. This time when he reaches for the catches Jack flinches and freezes, panic written across his face and at once McCree paused, not removing his fingers just yet, but not moving them either. “Do you want me to stop?” There’s no immediate reply and he’s not sure that his words have even registered, and there’s a touch of steel in his voice this time even as he gently nudges Jack, refusing to do anything else with a verbal response. “Jack?”

“N-No,” Jack grimaces as his voice wavers, lips twisting into a bitter smile as he stares down at his legs, one ending in a stump and the other descending into metal. “It’s harder than I thought…I…”

“I can stop,” McCree reassures him, moving to remove his hand and he’s caught by surprise when Jack’s hand shoots out to catch his, holding him in place even though his fingers are trembling.

“No,” Jack’s voice is barely more than a whisper now and he scowls, taking a deep breath before guiding McCree’s hand back down to his leg. “I want this.” His voice is growing steadier now, and there is no hesitation in his expression as he meets McCree’s gaze. “I want you.”

“Are you sure?”

    The growl, one that reminds him of a younger Jack who had been tired of being treated like he was spun from glass or that he was as pure as the media had made him out to be at the start, has him chuckling and nodding his agreement. He’s still watchful as he goes back to working n the catches, but he’s more confident this time and within no time at all he’s setting the second prosthetic next to the first. When he looks up again it’s to find that Jack is clutching at his prosthetic arm, fear written across his face and this time McCree puts his foot down as he realises just how far the other man was trying to go, reaching up to take Jack’s hands in his. “Next time.” Jack opens his mouth as though to protest but then closes it without a word, relief practically radiating from him and McCree sighs, bringing the trapped hands up to his lips so that he can kiss them. “Stop pushing yourself too hard, we’ve got time.”

“But…”

“We’ve got time.” McCree knows that Jack still fears waking up to find him gone gain, worried that one day he won’t want him anymore. It’s a fear he remembers all too well from after he had lost his own arm, and he knows that it will take him time to convince him completely that he’s not going anywhere, if he ever can. But for now, he will do what he can, slowly rising from his crouch on the floor and nudging Jack back onto the bed, chuckling when Jack decides to just flop awkwardly, pulling his hands free so that he can lie spread out, taking up as much space as possible. “Jack…”

    Jack grins at him, his expression still touched with fear and McCree bites back a sigh, instead gently nudging his partner into a more comfortable position on the bed, before settling over him and studying him for a moment. He can see Jack growing under his gaze and he moves before he can start to overthink things, hands gentle as he sets to work undoing the buttons of Jack’s shirt, muttering a curse when the tiny things elude him and he’s debating whether to just destroy it when he realises that it’s one of his shirts and immediately abandoning that thought. He doesn’t have enough that he can just destroy them as he feels like it, especially since Jack has taken to stealing them. “You’ve been in my wardrobe again.”

“You’ve only just noticed?”

“I was focused on other things,” McCree retorted, triumphant when the buttons finally give way, leaning in to kiss the skin that he’s slowly revealing. “More important things,” he murmurs, letting the words tickle Jack’s skin and feeling him shiver at the sensation, he had always been sensitive to that and McCree has fond memories of making him come undone by that alone. That’s not what either of them want tonight though so he pulls away with another kiss before easing the shirt off, Jack pushing himself up enough to let him slip it off, although there’s a moment’s hesitation when he removes the left-hand sleeve to reveal the prosthetic underneath, and McCree follows the descending material with his lips, the metallic taste more than worth it as Jack begins to unwind again, watching him with wide, marvelling eyes for a moment before reaching for him.

“You’re wearing too much,” he grumbles, and McCree obediently sheds his clothes, pouting when Jack laughs at the sight of his belt, the metal worn down after all these years, but he has no intention of getting rid of it, setting it aside with the devotion of a doting parent. It’s only as he wiggles out of his trousers that he realises Jack has gone quiet, and when he glances up again he’s dismayed to find that Jack has curled in on himself, one armed wrapped protectively around his chest and the other over his face as though to hide himself away, and his heart aches at the sight. _I knew it was too soon._

     He doesn’t say that though, unwilling to chide Jack about something like that. Instead, abandoning his efforts to strip, still clad in his boxers, he moves up the bed until he’s straddling Jack. He’s careful to make sure that his weight against Jack’s legs doesn’t make him panic, but there’s no response besides a sharp intake of breath and for now he’ll take it.

“Hey, none of that,” he scolded gently, reaching up to grasp the arm currently hiding Jack’s face from sight, gently pulling it away, relieved when there’s only the barest hint of resistance. “Let me see you.” He faltered at the sight of the dark blush colouring Jack’s cheeks, the shamed expression enough to tell him that it’s more than simple embarrassment and he twined their fingers together stopping Jack from hiding again, but also reassuring him that he was there. “Jack?”

“Why?” _Why do you want to see me? Why are you still here?_ McCree knows exactly what he means with that question, hearing the unspoken words just as he has a hundred times before and he sighs, wishing that there was a way to banish those doubts for good. However, he knows that it isn’t that easy, eyes darting down to his own arm for a minute before taking a deep breath.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, meaning every word of it as he leans back for a second to drink in the sight of Jack laid out beneath him. He’s not the same man he had loved back then, but then again McCree isn’t the same either, they’ve both changed. They both wear scars old and new, ones that the other can never fully understand, but he means it when he says that this Jack, the one that’s with him here and now, is every bit as beautiful as the poster boy that had everyone had drooled over, and whom McCree had been lucky enough to fall in love with. His eyes soften now as he catches the flicker of longing hidden beneath Jack’s fear, and he leans down to kiss Jack. It’s a slightly awkward angle and their noses were pressed together but he didn’t care, keeping the kiss slow and tender, exploring Jack’s mouth before back and kissing he tip of the nose he had been pressed against.

    When he pulled back completely, Jack was staring up at him, amber eyes wide and McCree smiled down a him. He knew that this was as far as they would go tonight and that was fine, he could work with that and he squeezed Jack’s fingers, wishing that his partner could see himself as McCree saw him even if it was just for one night. He shifted again, finding a more comfortable position for both of them, kissing Jack’s fingers but refusing to surrender his hand before he leant down again, using his other hand to trail his fingers across Jack’s skin and bending down so that he could follow their path with his lips. “Every.” He nipped slightly at the junction of Jack’s neck, remembering the sensitive spot and grinning at the sharp intake of breath that met the action before moving on, fingers and kisses trailing down one arm and back up again. “Last.”

     He paused, expression pained for a moment as he studied the web of scars around Jack’s other shoulder, a wound that could well have taken Jack from him, and he’s slower now as he trails each ridge no matter how faint, feeling Jack shivering beneath him. He moves on again, this time working his way down cool metal, fingers and lips worshipping every inch and he can feel Jack’s gaze burning into him, searching for the slightest hint of hesitation or revulsion but he doesn’t falter. “Last,” he breathes against Jack’s palm, hearing the faint whirring noise as the nanites in the artificial limb replicate the sensation of his breath against skin and he feels Jack tense slightly, smiling as his breath hitches, a quick glance confirming that it’s a reaction to the sensation and not because of a rising sob.

    He moves up again, stealing a quick kiss and willingly letting Jack pull him into a deeper kiss, happy to feel Jack taking control for a moment, lightly nipping at his bottom lip when he’s released and smiling when Jack moaned softly at the sting. “Inch,” he continues his previous actions, this time working his way down Jack’s chest, more defined than it had been when they were younger, all sinewy muscle now and he kisses each pec with a grin, feeling Jack jumping at the sensation. “Of,” he’s moving down once again, teasing Jack’s belly button, another sensitive spot, made worse by the scar that runs across it and he kisses it from one end to the other. “You.”

    He’s moving lower now, skirting his groin when he feels Jack tense, more proof that he doesn’t want more than this tonight even if he tries to say otherwise. McCree doesn’t comment on the tension though, instead working his way down one thigh, remembering long hours tussling in the practice room, which more often than not had ended with him pinned by Jack’s powerful legs. He had been a hotshot with the gun, but hand to hand combat beyond the wild brawling he had picked up in Deadlock had been beyond him and whilst he had improved over the years, he knew that Jack was still miles ahead of him, and he was fine with that, feeling the powerful muscles quivering under the gentlest of kisses. “Is.” He moved lower, following the path of the scars that he had massaged earlier, first one stump and then the other. “Beautiful.”

“J-Jesse…”

     Jack sounded close to tears, but whilst there was a suspicious sheen to his eyes when McCree lifted himself up again, there was a soft smile on the scarred lips and there was a look in the amber eyes that said that he might almost believe him. Quietly McCree moved to the side, and Jack let him shift them over until McCree was curled around him, arms wrapped around him, holding him against his chest and peppering his shoulder with kisses. “I mean it you know? Every word.” He really wanted Jack to believe him and after a moment Jack nodded, sniffling slightly as he turned his head to meat McCree’s lips, kissing him softly and smiling into the kiss.

“I’m starting to believe you…” Jack sounds so surprised by his own words that McCree knows that it’s the truth and whilst it’s not enough, it will do for now, and he kisses Jack again before burying his nose into the crook of his neck before murmuring against his skin.

“Then I’ll keep saying it until you do.”


End file.
